Well. I received quite a bit of feedback from that last chapter. Clara and Catalina aren't here at the moment. I sent them out. Neither of them are allowed to read the 'royal room' parts unless I allow them to see it in the story, which I didn't last time. I have to confess, I enjoyed writing last chapter. I thought that little Z/D bit was perfect, agreed?

On with the torture!

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"Your name is Catalina?" Asks the knight when the moon is in the center of the sky. I don't answer. He goes on anyway, "Your friend in my bag there did the right thing. Don't blame him. We've been looking for the second murderer in this mess. According to what he told us, that's you. Took quite a bit of explaining to get us to actually believe him. I was the only one who bothered to come out. Be glad he didn't get the chance to slip sleeping weed in your food instead." My breath catches in my throat from fury. That traitorous little sneak!

He sighs, setting me down. "I'm supposed to search you for weapons. Let me know if I miss any." Carefully he searches all over my costume, careful not to miss any spots, much to my displeasure. He doesn't even stay out of private areas! He then produces a rope and begins binding my feet and hands together in a knot I perfected making and getting out of at the age of three. Unfortunately I can't budge an inch, but it should work to my advantage if he keeps using it. He picks me up and uses the remainder of the rope to sling me over his shoulder, like a sack. "Comfortable?" He asks me, not bothering to wait for a non-existent response before setting off.

"This flute is of nice quality, you know. Very handy for magical and non- magical tune making. Sanded down nicely. Quite a work of art, if I do say so myself." He seems to have decided I'll be more cooperative if he compliments me, the fool. "By the way, my name's Fratly. Sir Fratly to you. Just in case you decide to thank me for this someday." Fratly? I recognize the name. Lady Freya's husband, who lost his memory many years ago. Bits and pieces come back to him seemingly at random, but whenever he needs to remember something for an important reason he will be able to. "That knot too tight?" He asks me. I refuse to answer still. "Refusing to answer? Come on, you can at least say something. It's getting boring, and I feel as though I'm talking to myself. That's a very bad habit to get into." I bite my lip to stop myself from retorting sarcastically. If only I had not used the last of my strength to save that traitor!

He continues to walk, and I continue to try and struggle, though I know my body won't cooperate. I would curse my weakness out loud if I didn't want him to shut up so badly. It's bad enough to be betrayed right after saving someone's life. THEIR life. It's even worse to be betrayed to people who undoubtedly will attempt to brainwash you after learning your secrets through a very painful way. It's absolutely horrible to be searched for weapons by a captor of the opposite sex with no regard for privacy. But to have all these thing AND to have him refuse to shut up is unbelievable. I have tormentors without mercy AND a good imagination. Which is a very bad combination for lawbreakers. "Look, that's Cleyra just up ahead. Soon we'll be in the rain of Burmecia. Do you want me to keep you dry?" He asks, and I still refuse to answer. At the moment I'd prefer to get soaked, catch pneumonia, and die. After, of course, killing him, and then I'd purchase a good seat in heaven to watch the devil play with him. Heeheehee.

The first drops of moisture hits my face, and I begin to panic once more. They CAN'T imprison me! The fear begins to course through my body once more, drying my mouth, making my eyes huge both underneath and on my costume. I try to swallow but can't, too scared to do anything but freeze, muscles tensing sporadically, causing the material to bulge and shrink slightly with it.

No!

He moves me from his shoulder to in his arms like a little kid, and glances down at me before stopping. He gazes at my face and remarks, "I don't know what you're so afraid of. We're not going to torture you, hurt you, or do anything cruel in any way." A growl escapes my throat wildly, and even I have to admit I sound like a wild animal. It's low and hurts my throat, but I can't stop it and don't want to.

He continues walking despite my throat tearing protests, and I begin to struggle again, hunting wildly for an escape, any escape. Please. . . No one answers my silent call.

I see the gate overhead, passing by quickly; the soft flap of his feet on the ground changes to a harder dull thud. No.

"Fratly, that moogle was telling the truth?!"

"It would seem so."

My heart sinks. No hope of escape.

A second rat walks over, peers down at me. "She's scared to death!"

"I can tell. She doesn't believe we're not going to do anything incredibly mean to her. She certainly doesn't take MY word for it."

"I thought she'd be asleep."

"She exhausted herself magically, and can't do much more than lie here. Though I must admit, she was growling earlier, and that was just scary."

A third voice, female, joins the group. "Well let's get her some weed now. We can't have her regaining her strength and fighting us before she's in custody. Custody.

A seven-letter word that can make me feel faint.

A hand appears in front of my face holding something; I lock my jaw. Two other hands hold it open until the weed is dropped in, they then hold my mouth closed. My throat is stroked, causing an instant unstoppable impulse: Swallowing.

Despite my protests, darkness swallows me up, and I fall deep into a dreamless sleep.

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"That went well," Remarks Lady Uedalayla quietly once the childs eyes have shut.

Sir Malakanya absently takes a piece of her hair between his fingers and runs it over, thinking. "She looked as though she would have fought to the death if she was physically able."

"She would've. The moogle told us that, and from my own experience with her I know he wasn't exaggerating." Confirms Sir Fratly, setting down Catalina, who instinctively curled up. "The moogle is in my backpack, probably sound asleep. He said her name is Catalina."

"Said? Didn't you confirm that on your trip?" Asks Malakanya, suspicious.

"Not at all. She refused to say a word the whole time, even when I searched her for weapons." Insists Fratly.

"You enjoyed searching her, didn't you? Do you know what Freya would do to you if she found out?" Teases Lady Uedalayla playfully.

"Goodness, no! She'd kill me! And no, Uedalayla, I did NOT enjoy it. She stared at me with such hate I came very close to running away screaming. I, personally, am very glad looks can't kill." Groans Fratly, sitting down in the rain. Malakanya laughs.

"I take it that means you want me to carry her to the jail," He jokes, picking her up. Fratly gets up with a sigh of relief.

"If you insist."